


Rainy Days and Cups of Tea

by MeNaK



Series: Rainy Days [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (good puns), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bad Puns, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, I promise, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inspired by Music, M/M, Morse Code, Multi, Neighbors, Nightmares, Non-Binary Frisk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Singing, Slow Burn, Small Towns, ebott is based heavily on british columbia, if they ever come up, kind of, reader may or may not be described as femme later but i'm sticking to they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeNaK/pseuds/MeNaK
Summary: Maybe moving to a small mountain town wasn't the best idea if you wanted to let go of your past and live a quiet life. Everyone here seems to be up in your business, especially a skeleton monster named Sans--who also happens to be your next-door-neighbour. But, despite your best efforts, you warm up to those around you quite quickly, and slowly begin to reveal yourself to them in the process. Meanwhile, the other residents in your building seem to be moving out unusually often. Will your path to self-discovery lead to the discovery of something bigger going on in the town..?





	1. Broken mirrors and tubs of spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends... *insert obligatory 'this is my first fanfic' here*. Ignore this if you're not here for the Backstory lol
> 
> I've been writing this on and off for like... too long, but like never actually got down to finishing a chapter or working on overall plot points and stuff until just recently. I'm mostly writing this for myself (2018 mood!) but I was like, hey maybe someone out there is just as desperate for Sans/Reader fics as I am. Also, maybe actually posting this will pressure me into continuing to write... 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is kind of a cross between a self-insert and an OC (like a lot of these fics lol). 'Reader' is gonna have a few defined characteristics, but no to minimal details about like, hair, skin colour, eye colour, etc. Gender is kind of neutral but I'm also writing from my own experience as an nb girl which will probs affect things later on (they/them pronouns, clothing choices, nicknames by other people.. etc). I know I read Sans/Reader things that are Not Me and it's fine, but... I tend to overthink things lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _"If I stumble,_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZoK63Bk7pgw)   
>  _They're gonna eat me alive_   
>  _Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?"_   
> 
> 
> CW for self injury (kind of, not really), minor blood, dissociation, panic attacks, nightmares, implied past abuse... yikes just realized i packed a ton of shit into one chapter... it's not all gonna be like this i promise... 

Another day another move.

The bus pulls up to your stop, and you hop off with only a small duffel bag and the clothes on your back. You still can’t believe you’re moving to a tiny little mountain town halfway across the country, but with the rent as cheap as it is, you’re not about to complain.

You look in the direction that your new apartment is supposed to be, and almost fall over.

It lies at the top of a ridiculously steep hill. That certainly wasn’t mentioned in the listing. You would laugh if you had gotten any sleep in the past 24 hours, but right now you kind of (very much) want to cry.

You kind of understand why the rent is so cheap.

After an arduous trek, the apartment building is finally in front of you (Lord have mercy on your soul). Actually, now that you’re looking at it, rather than an apartment… it looks more like a motel. It seems as though you don’t have to go through any sort of concierge before getting to your room. Instead, stairs running up the side of the building lead to each floor, where an outdoor hallway runs to connect a few units.

Before you can breathe a sigh of relief, you realize that you’re on the THIRD FLOOR! This has to be some sort of sick joke. You begrudgingly climb a rickety metal staircase and continue your journey, which compared to your trek up the hill, is surprisingly easy.

Key in lock, you shove the door open, and quickly lock it behind you.

Chucking your duffel bag aside, you collapse onto the dusty floor and glance around at your surroundings. It doesn’t take you long, as there were only two rooms: the main room, with a rusty bed, a small kitchen, a window that almost covered an entire wall, and an antique-looking lamp, as well as a washroom with a toilet and shower.

You crawl over to the window. It’s a breathtaking view; back in the city you could never dream of being able to see the tips of evergreen trees covered in snow, the lake frozen over, a mountain more beautiful than any picture you would find on the internet -- and was that a snowy owl that just flew out from the forest?

You look for some sort of handle to open the window with, even checking behind the drawn curtains, but to no avail. In the back of your mind you feel some relief, as this means any urge you might have to leap out of it and become a permanent part of the scenery would be dispelled. You shake this thought out of your mind and quickly turn away from the view.

It is then that you notice the far wall, where there hangs an old silver mirror, coated in dust just like the rest of the place. Other than the window, this is the only wall ornament. You didn’t see it at first, since it was in the corner, but its dull gleam from the sun’s reflection entices you, and you slowly get up and walk over to stand in front of it.

Before you realise what you’re doing, your fingertips reach out to the glass and trail downward, leaving streaks of smudged glass behind. Through the gaps in dust, you make eye contact with a person you don’t recognize – their hair is bleached and their eyes are dull and tired. You inhale sharply, jumping back and lashing out at the mirror with your other hand. The glass crunches under you, leaving you to clutch at your now injured fist.

You hiss in frustration and pain. How stupid did you have to be? You didn’t have any medical supplies yet. You only had the time and space to bring the essentials: a few articles of clothing, your toothbrush and toothpaste, soap, and your savings.

Trying not to move your wounded hand too much, you head towards the bathroom and silently pray that the rushed previous tenants had left something of use behind, spotting a cracked medicine cabinet above a porcelain sink. You open the door hesitantly and then let out a sigh of relief. The cabinet was full.

You feel like a child who discovered a treasure chest as you look through the contents of the cupboard. There are a bunch of prescription bottles, which worries you somewhat, as you wouldn’t have thought this was the kind of thing to be forgotten, but you don’t question it and shift them all to one side of the cabinet.

But sorting through all of these items begins to take its toll on you, and your hand begins to scream for attention. You quickly pick out a pair of tweezers, some antiseptic, and a roll of gauze, and sit on the floor of the bathroom in an attempt to minimize the mess.

It doesn’t take you long to pick out the bits of glass embedded in your hand. In fact, in a twisted sort of way, you almost missed this routine. You apply the antiseptic, cursing as its sting flooded through you, and wrapped your hand in gauze.

What a great start.

You stare at the floor for a few minutes without really seeing it, but then realize that you’ve left blood and glass everywhere and jump up, careful not to step on anything. You wonder if the previous tenants left cleaning supplies behind as well, and you head over to the kitchen to check the cupboards.

Jackpot. Not only did they leave behind numerous cleaning supplies, they left an assortment of pots, pans, cutlery, and tools. You almost faint due to the amount of money you’ve just saved, but take pause and wonder what had the previous tenants in such a rush to leave. 

Oh well.

You grab some rags, bleach, and a dustpan, and spend the next half hour cleaning up after yourself.

After finishing in the bathroom, you begin to scrub the floor under the mirror. Your thoughts rapidly stray away from the task at hand, and your heart beats strangely as you consider the seriousness of your situation.

Your first priority should be finding a job.

A real job.

A safe job.

And you need to find one fast.

Somehow you were lucky enough to stumble upon this place, whose owner was desperate and willing to sell on short notice for cheap, and your luck somehow saved you from buying about half of the supplies you needed, but you knew this kind of thing wouldn’t last for very long. You were never known for being lucky.

Your field of vision is slightly blurry, and your eyes are finding it hard to focus. You look down and see that your hands are shaking in an exaggerated manner; if you didn’t know any better, you might think it was a conscious action. That familiar heated prickle makes its way up your body. A stream of incoherent words falls out of your mouth and you shake your head over and over again.

Why  _now?_  You try to focus on the fact that you’re alive, you’re safe, your heart is beating, your lungs are moving, but you end up curled into yourself with your good hand clutching at your head as you try to stop your thoughts.

_“You’re never going to make it out there by yourself.”_

Inhale.

_“Pathetic.”_

Exhale.

Your good hand wraps around the wrist of your bad hand, and you grip it tightly in order to bring sensation back to you. Your knuckles strain with effort, and so does your arm.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and realize that you’ve been crying, but you’re back. They’re your tears. You slowly get up, hands still shaking, dispose of the used rags and put the cleaning supplies back in the cupboard, and curl up on the floor next to your duffel bag. Just for a minute, just to calm down. Your breaths become deeper, and your eyes begin to close…

What seems like only moments later, you awaken to the sound of fervent rapping at your door. The apartment is now dark. How long were you out for? You’re not sure if it’s late, or really early the next morning. You get out of bed and take careful steps to the front door’s peephole, revealing that on the other side there is someone with a red... scarf? You can’t tell.

They seem to sense your presence, and press their face up against the door to shout, “NEIGHBOURING HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, COME BEARING GIFTS OF WELCOMING!!! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!!”

The sudden overwhelming noise makes you shrink backwards slightly. Does this mean that people saw you arrive? The voice said "neighbouring", so, this is your neighbour? You remind yourself that this is a small town in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't make sense to be so suspicious, especially considering that you've only just moved here. Besides, who would make up the name "Papyrus"?

Keeping the door chain locked, you pull your door open a crack, hiding your face behind the wood. “Um… No, thank you. I appreciate the offer but I’m fine.”

There is a short silence, and whoever is at the door says, a bit more softly, “UNFORTUNATE… BUT I WILL RESPECT YOUR WISHES! I WILL JUST LEAVE IT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR INSTEAD!!! GOODBYE!!!”

Gradually receding footsteps and a nearby slamming door let you know that your visitor has left. You feel like a bit of a jerk, but you’re kind of glad that you don’t have to deal with anyone today.

You undo the chain on the door and crack it open a couple inches more, to see that they have left a large Tupperware on your doormat. You double check to make sure that there's no one around before picking up the box and taking it inside, shoving the door closed with your foot.

It really is quite a large box. You find yourself struggling to get a grip on the thing, before you roughly set it down on the kitchen counter. What on earth could it be?

The curiosity is nudging at you, so you pull off the plastic lid. 

Spaghetti!

Cold, gelatinous spaghetti.

It's almost as though Papyrus had removed this box from the fridge just moments before passing it along to you. Of course, you still appreciate the gesture, but you unfortunately do not have a microwave. This seems to be the point at which your luck has run out.

The question then becomes, how picky can you afford to be? You stare at the pasta, contemplating. It  _looks_  decent. Grabbing a fork from one of the drawers, you tentatively work a few strands of pasta away from the rest of the clump and shove it into your mouth. 

It's... not bad. Certainly not  _good --_ the coldness and gelatinous-ness of the dish did not improve the experience by any means -- but overall, it's quite average. Thanks, Papyrus. 

You then realize that you've left the door unlocked, and quickly run back to lock it.  

Exhaustion suddenly flows through you, and you drag yourself back across the room to flop onto the bed. There are no blankets, no sheets, and you didn’t bring a pillow, so you just hope that the mattress isn’t infested with something that you’d rather not know about. You close your eyes and cover yourself as best you can with your jacket. You quickly feel yourself drifting again…

_Your eyes shoot open._

_You’re frozen._

_Lying in a bed, staring up at the ceiling, you’re frozen. You try to move your arms, your legs, try to wiggle your fingers and toes, to no avail. You’re stuck here._

_Your eyes dart around the very familiar room. You thought you had gotten out of here, but you’re back. Almost as if nothing had happened. Which must mean…_

_A sudden banging on the door. You flinch._

_His voice slithers its way towards you. “I know you’re in there, kid. I can hear you. Get out here right now. You think you can get away with such blatant disrespect?”_

_You find yourself wondering what it was that set him off. Your thoughts are soon interrupted by the door slamming open._

_He stands in the entrance way. His face is obscured by shadow, not that you needed (or wanted) to see it. You would recognize that silhouette anywhere._

_You want to close your eyes, but the fear of something unexpected happening while you're not paying attention keeps them wide open. Nonetheless, you keep your eyes from looking straight at him._

_He smacks the doorway in a twisted kind of rhythm. “Do you think! I! Will! Put! Up! With! Insolence!” Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Instead, you lie there and hold yourself while tears trickle over the bridge of your nose._ _He begins to head towards you._

_In a voice you don’t recognize, he whispers, “Hey. Wake up.” He approaches you, getting much to close for comfort. “C’mon, already. Wake up.”_

_“Go away…” you manage to force out. The man suddenly raises his hand, and you flinch. To your surprise, he taps your cheek with his palm. Tap tap tap. Tap. The taps get gradually louder and louder and louder, until they’re booming in your ears…_

 

Covered in a sheen of sweat, heart racing, face wet with tears, you jolt awake to the sound of tapping on the wall beside your bed. Your brain is running purely on adrenaline, so all that you're able to think about for a few moments is the fact that you can’t get away from that house even in your dreams, even halfway across the country.

Your eyes dart around the room, and your hand is latched onto your other wrist, trying to determine if this is now reality. After a few moments, your ears register the sound again. It’s repetitive, and sounds familiar.

..- / --- -.-

Morse… code? Where the hell are you, a 20th-century army base? The tapping starts up again. “U… ok??”

The words make you flush, mortified. Were these walls so thin that your neighbours could hear you having a nightmare? Wait, you had neighbours? Duh. Of course you did. This was a multi-story apartment. As your brain begins to work, you remember that you’ve already met one of them. Kind of.

Urgh.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you slowly tap back,

.--- ..- ... - / .- / -. .. --. .... - -- .- .-. .

 “Just a nightmare”

The person on the other side pauses for just a beat longer than you find comfortable, and then you hear:

.. / ... . .

“I see”

Turning away from the wall, you bring your hands up to cover your face. What were they insinuating? Were they insinuating anything? No, you were just being paranoid. How could you read into the tone of literal tapping against a wall?

You make a mental note to not leave your apartment tomorrow until after you’re sure your neighbour is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could that neighbour be..?
> 
> I know, it was a bit convenient to have all that stuff there, but I totally did it for a reason and not just because I was too lazy to think of how Reader might get all that stuff back to their apartment by themselves, let alone pay for it (haha!). I mean it’s kind of important that the previous tenants left in a rush isn’t it?? Or.. it will be.. Anyway, if you’re reading this please let me know what you think? First fanfic and all that. (plus lemme know if u need a warning for something if i happened to miss it) Positive vibes..


	2. Paranoia and snickering skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _"We lived without knowing each other, but_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7c7rBv-FUU)   
>  _With a 'hello'_   
>  _You and I became a we"_
> 
> CW: stalking (i guess), claustrophobia/anxiety

You’ve managed to survive the past few days on nothing but cold pasta, water, and sleep. By the third morning, though, your stomach is done with you. It pressures you into leaving the house to find some real food. Placing your ear against the wall beside your bed, you decide it’s safe to leave without bumping into your neighbour, and you slowly roll out of bed.

You figure if you’re going to go into a store, it probably wouldn’t be acceptable to wear the same clothes you’ve been wearing for the past week, so you carefully manoeuvre your shirt, pants, and underclothes around your bandages and throw them in a pile on the floor next to your bed. You consider having a shower, but… nah. Instead, you pull on your spare set of clothes and grab your backpack, making sure that small amounts of cash are hidden around your flat before heading out the door.

The building you live in is not particularly big; there are only three floors, and you’re on the last one. For you this is unfortunate, as it means that keeping your anonymity will prove to be much more difficult, but the town you’re staying in is small anyway, and the rent was too low to pass up.

You quickly pass by the other few apartments on your floor in order to access the rickety staircase that takes you down to the ground level. On your way towards the stairs, you notice that they seem to extend past the third floor. It’s not surprising that you didn’t notice this upon your initial arrival, considering the state that you were in, but now it piques your curiosity. You make a mental note to check it out later.

 _How old is this building?_ You presume it must have been built more than a few decades ago, taking note of the chipped paint and rusty railings. Or maybe it’s just too cheap of a place to get repairs. Like, ever.

Just as you’re reaching the bottom of the staircase, you hear the distinct sound of a door clicking shut from a few floors above you, and you jerk your head back up in the direction of your flat. You swear you just saw something move, but it only lasted for a flicker of a second, meaning that you did not get a chance to process what it was.

It takes a moment for you to breathe normally again, and you confirm to yourself that you locked your door properly. The noise was probably one of your neighbours, or something. You take another quick glance up at the building, but no one is there.

Whatever. Your stomach reminded you that there were more important things to worry about right now.

You ignore the feeling of being watched.

 

You’re feeling rather weak (understandably so), making the journey down to town quite the expedition. Luckily for you, because the town is so small, you stumble across a general store quite quickly, and make your way through the aisles with the same amount of speed. You measure out bags of peas, lentils, quinoa, flour… You’re careful to only take small quantities so that you can carry it back up the hell hill, but you make sure that you have enough of the essentials to keep you satiated. After checking how much money is in your pocket, you decide to splurge a little bit and get a small carton of milk as well, plus a chocolate bar that you can eat right away. Goodness knows you need that blood sugar.

Anxious to get out of there as soon as possible, you barely glance at the rabbit monster processing your order, who is unsuccessfully attempting to engage you in conversation. You grab the bag of food as soon as it’s handed to you, thank them, and hold yourself back from sprinting out of the store.

Once you’re outside, you take a moment to remove the chocolate bar from the grocery bag. The time it takes to unwrap the sugary goodness and shove it in your mouth goes by in a blur. You hold it between your teeth as you carefully place the rest of the groceries in your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder.

Distant recollections of your mother telling you not to walk and eat pass through your brain as you do that exact thing. You toss the now empty wrapper into the nearest trash can, and silently throw those memories away with it.

Unfortunately, you still don’t have enough energy to explore, not that there’s much to explore in the first place. Of course, you’re living here now, so you’ll surely get to know this place like the back of your hand soon enough. Right now, though, you need toiletries. Glancing around the area, you spot a drugstore right across the street, and head inside.

Much like the previous store, you quickly find everything you need. It’s not exactly a difficult task, because you didn’t need that many things in the first place. As you pass by the medical supplies, though, your eyes land on boxes of bandages, and you stop in your tracks, and clench your fists slightly. This turns out to be a mistake, and you are swiftly reminded of your injured hand by the searing pain that rips across it. Gritting your teeth, you take your supplies up to the cashier (human, this time) and carry the new bag in your good hand as you exit the store.

 

You must have gotten out of bed later than you thought, or taken longer to shop than you thought (perhaps a combination of both), because it’s beginning to get dark outside. Part of the reason for this, of course, is that it’s winter, and this town is much further north than where you used to live – but you’re unnerved all the same, and do your best to speed walk back up the hill without tripping over anything or injuring yourself again.

Along the way, you catch yourself being startled by the sound of your own footsteps. And a random bird in the bushes. And a bat swooping overhead.   _Don’t be so paranoid_ , you chide, and keep walking for a minute or two.

It’s hard to chalk up the distinct shape of a human figure in your peripheral vision to paranoia, though. You initially assume it’s just your shadow, but then you notice a slight delay between your steps and those of your silhouette.

You freeze in your tracks, facing away from them. You’re paralyzed; you try to prompt your brain, to get you to move even a little bit forward so you can get away you need to get _away_ —

“heya.”

A low voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You spin around to the source of the sound, and startle backwards upon realizing that there’s a hooded figure right behind you. You take a deep breath in order to suppress the scream that bubbled up in your throat. You’ve been here for less a week and here you are getting into trouble the first time you lay a foot outside. Stupid. You were in for it now.

“whoops,” the figure says, taking a step back themselves. They slowly put their hands up in the air in a gesture of peace. “didn’t mean to skullk.”

The tone is so familiarly even and calm that you want to scream. You know that it’s not him, it can’t possibly be him, but you remain in a ready position for anything to happen. It takes a moment for you to process the fact that this person is not actually that big. In fact, they’re shorter than you.

The dim light from the streetlamps reflects off of the figure’s hands, which catches your attention. Upon peering closer, you realise that they’re a monster. A skeleton monster; snickering, with a big freaky grin on their face and white lights where you’d normally expect eyes to be. They’re wearing a blue jacket and basketball shorts, despite it being the middle of winter, and fuzzy... slippers? You’d laugh if you weren’t still functioning on adrenaline and panic. Nonetheless, you feel your mouth twitch slightly.

The skeleton seems to pick up on this, and their grin somehow manages to widen even further. Their hands lower, and one of them moves in your direction, hand outstretched. You stare at it, uncomprehending.

“c’mon, human. don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” they prompt, startling you.

Is it, like, a monster thing to make friends with someone after scaring them half to death? You slowly reach your own quivering hand out. After what seems like an eternity, you grasp the skeleton’s hand in an attempt to shake it, but you’re immediately met with the sound of a loud PPPPFFFFFTTHHHBBBBTTTTT.

The skeleton is no longer making any attempt to hold back their laughter, filling your ears with the sound of deep chuckles. He holds up his hand, revealing a whoopee cushion.

You realize that your mouth is hanging open, and you quickly snap it shut. This seems to make the skeleton laugh harder.

His laughter is infectious. You find yourself struggling to hold down a giggle yourself, but the realization that you still don’t know what he wants with you sobers you up rather quickly.

Your companion seems to take notice of your body language, and straightens up. As if nothing had ever happened, he winks at you and says, “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

You nod and mumble out some incoherent reply. Slowly, you take a step backwards, with an iron grip on your bag. But, just like always, your brain and your body are uncoordinated, and you trip over a bump in the sidewalk. You bring your hands up to your head in an effort to brace yourself for the impact of the fall.

When you don’t feel any pain, or any impact at all, you open your eyes. For a second, you question whether you’re alive.   

Your entire body has been encased in what seems like a thick blue fog, and you and your bags hover a few inches off the ground. You can’t move. You jerk your head up to look at Sans.

Unsurprisingly, that grin is back – or did it ever leave in the first place? “woah, be careful. it’s supposed to be winter, not **fall** ,” Sans says, winking at you.

You stare at them, blankly. Somehow only one of their eyes is lit up now, glowing a strange combination of cyan and yellow. You find yourself lost in the swirl of colours.

Sans’ grin falters a bit. “that’s, uh. your cue to laugh. heh.”

“Could you… put me down, please?” you manage.

“yeah, sure. don’t look so **blue** ,” Sans replies, winking again. “in fact, you look like you might need a little **pick-me-up**.”

You gnaw at your lip. In another situation, you might have broken out an awkward little smile, but this blue stuff was making you feel claustrophobic and overwhelmed. You will yourself not to cry, and say (perhaps a little curtly), “Please. Put me down now, please.”

You and Sans spend another few moments sizing each other up, before Sans wordlessly lowers you to the ground. Your feet and bag land softly on the pavement, but your eyes are still locked on his.

“Sorry, uh… Not to be rude or anything. Like, thanks for that. But. I like to have some control over my own body, y’know?” You wiggle your fingers a bit in emphasis.

Sans seems to have enough decency to look embarrassed. “oh, geez. i saw you falling so i kinda did it without thinking—shit. you okay?”

The interruption makes you realize that you have tears running down your face, which you hastily rub away. This was a ridiculous enough encounter as it was, what the hell are you doing bursting into tears? “No, I’m good, man —I mean, uh… dude?”

Sans gives you an exasperated look. “either of those is fine. unless you’re intent on callin’ me ‘bone man.’” They—he, you guess?— snickers again.

Ack. “No, of course—“

“‘i take it you’re not from around here...? never met a skeleton before, eh?”

“Well, I… er, no…?”

“fyi, ‘monster’ is fine. ‘person’, also fine. really doesn’t matter. i’ll tell ya, i’ve been called worse,” he says with a shrug.

Double ack. “Sorry,” you say.

He looks thoughtful for a second. “can’t say i’ve heard that one before.”

It takes a moment for you to process the reply. Once it sets in, a groan escapes your lips before you can stop it. You quickly slap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. Sans clearly heard you, and he looks delighted. The lights in his eyes seem to gleam brighter, somehow.

He looks as if he’s about to say something else, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he looks at you and says, “oh, hey. speaking of which, i don’t think i caught your name.”

You contemplate making up a new name to go by in this town, but your brain is fried and you can’t think of a good one, so you decide to just provide him with the information he’s looking for. You then mumble out some lie about having to head home right away, and quickly turn and walk away before you embarrass yourself any further.

The skeleton doesn’t follow you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter was done ages ago but then I decided to move some stuff into different chapters, so then it felt way too short to post.. and unfortunately i’m blunt af so expanding/rewriting this was a JOURNEY ((yet somehow, it’s still easier to write 2000 words of fanfic than it is to write 500 words of essay lmaooo))
> 
> also its probably gonna be an ongoing habit to post chapters really late so that I can pretend no one's gonna see them lool (time zones?? never heard of her)


End file.
